


i'll be the only dream you seek

by chthonicheart



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Communication, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Healthy Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Prompt Fill, Sharing a Bed, buck deals with his trauma, eddie is an angel change my mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 00:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21262400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chthonicheart/pseuds/chthonicheart
Summary: “You’re not a mess, Buck. You’re human, and you’re healing, and that’sokay.”





	i'll be the only dream you seek

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again with another prompt fill! this time this is for the anon who wanted eddie comforting buck after a nightmare and bed sharing! i hope i did this prompt justice, this was so much fun to write though it did get away from me a little haha ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> despite the tags, this is more hurt/comfort fluff than anything super angsty, but a nightmare is thoroughly detailed! 
> 
> thank you to my fiance and aria for betaing this for me!! this would not be nearly as readable without their help! <333
> 
> any remaining mistakes are my own!

It’s supposed to be an easy night. 

An easy night after a long stretch of bad nights, nights that made Buck want to succumb to the overwhelming feeling of loneliness he’s been fighting since the accident. Even before that, if he was really being honest with himself. It’s not like he’s ever been great at being in touch with his emotions, despite how frequently they ruled over him. Impulsive with no self-control; he’s heard the spiel before and he’s sure he’ll hear it again. 

Tonight had been good, though. 

Tonight had been the first night since the lawsuit really started, where he felt like he was approaching common ground with his best friend.

They both had things to apologize for, still, both had things that they weren’t comfortable enough unveiling just yet, but it’s  _ okay _ . After Eddie’s words at the grocery store, he had been sure that he’d lost his best friend for good. While trying to preserve their relationship he had ended up destroying it. 

All things considered, it’s a pretty Buck thing to do. 

Doesn’t make it any funnier in retrospect, though. 

They had been talking more. Eddie had invited him over for dinner earlier on in the week, and though it made his heart flutter, Buck knew it was mainly to appease Christopher. Not that he had a problem with that, regardless of the reason, he’s just grateful Eddie invited him in the first place. 

Of course he has to go and ruin it all again. 

Of course he does. 

  
  
  
  


\-----

  
  
  
  


_ The first thing Buck notices is the water.  _

_ It slams him into the back of the booth behind him, which he didn’t notice until the moment before he felt the contact of it pierce through him. He wants to scream, tries to, but is quickly silenced by the tide rushing into his throat. He chokes on it as the crash propels him out of the booth and into the open water; despite everything he still cannot stop screaming.  _

_ Christopher. He needs to get to Christopher, needs to save him. He doesn’t know where the little boy ended up, hasn’t seen him since placing him behind the booth to shelter him from the force of the wave. If he’s gone out this far he can only imagine how far a little kid will go, and he feels the way his chest constricts at the thought that has nothing at all to do with the way water swims around in his lungs.  _

_ His muscles are sore and tired by the time he finally breaks through the surface. Buck’s ears are ringing, swirling out of focus; it takes him longer than he’d like to admit to be able to really hear the way Christopher calls for him.  _

_ For several dizzying moments, he has no idea where the voice is coming from. He still feels a bit like he’s stuck under the current, but the fresh air and sun on his face is unmistakable.  _

_ “Christopher!” Buck calls, the words tear at his throat. “Christopher! Chris!”  _

_ “Buck!” Christopher calls back, and this time, for some reason, it’s easy to turn in the direction of his voice, and Buck spots him wrapped around a traffic pole (?). His heart bursts in his chest when he spots him, and he immediately jumps forward against the rushing of the waves, swimming to him as fast as he can. _

_ Once he’s close enough to make out the terror on Christopher’s face, Buck holds his hand out, “Grab my hand, Christopher!” he yells.  _

_ It happens fast, after that. He’s so focused on Christopher that he doesn’t notice the plank of wood that comes flying past Buck, and it’s too late to grab it by the time he does. It barely grazes Christopher on the pole, but it’s enough to knock the young boy off and into the water. The scream that crawls out of his throat is more painful than any that came before it; he doesn’t need to swallow to know there’s blood filling the back of his mouth. _

_ “Christopher!”  _

_ There’s silence.  _

_ “Chris! Christopher, please.”  _

_ In the distance, he hears,  _

_ “Buck.”  _

_ That’s not Christopher’s voice.  _

_ “Chris…” he calls, voice so low and broken it barely carries above the noise of the water, which for some reason isn’t nearly as loud as it was only a second ago.  _

_ “Buck,” the voice says again. Too deep to be Christopher’s, too soft and warm around the edges. “Wake up.”  _

He wakes up gasping, a hand going to his throat before he can process the action itself. There’s nothing there; just warm, flushed skin, and he has to blink back against the tears that immediately spring forward. It takes a few moments for him to realize exactly where he is, lying under a couple blankets on Eddie’s couch. 

“Buck,” repeats Eddie, who from the tone of his voice has obviously been repeating his name for a while now. “Hey, man. You with me?” 

Buck isn’t really sure he can say anything now without letting out another sob, so he holds off. Instead, he nods, not quite trusting himself to meet Eddie’s gaze without having a complete meltdown. He had thought he was past this, that he had worked through this particular trauma. Apparently, he hadn’t. Maybe that’s because he hadn’t really  _ tried _ all that hard, but it had been several months now. He even has new trauma to worry about now and yet this is what haunts him. 

Eddie doesn’t wait for a response. Buck can see his hand reach out for him out of the corner of his eye. His hand hovers above Buck’s skin for a long time, almost as if trying to decide if he should just reach out and touch already, but eventually aborts the movement. Buck swallows— doesn’t know how to say it’s exactly what he wants right now, what he  _ needs _ . 

“Can I touch you?” Eddie asks, voice sweet and as gentle as he’s ever heard it. 

Buck nods. 

Eddie’s hand is wrapping around his wrist a moment later, a single point of contact between them. It shouldn’t be as comforting as it is, but he can already feel the tension bleed out of his shoulders a bit. The other man’s thumb starts to stroke his skin, then, moving in circles that somehow are exactly what Buck needs. 

Once he feels like the urge to cry has mostly faded, he clears his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

Eddie’s surprised enough -- either by his words or that he finally speaks at all -- that his movements stop for a moment before picking back up again as if they’d never stopped in the first place. 

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Eddie assures him. 

“I’m sure the last thing you wanted was to be woken up like that,” Buck says, snorting a little in self-deprecation. 

Buck’s so busy staring a hole into his own lap that he doesn’t notice Eddie’s other hand reaching out to tenderly — there really is no other word for it; everything about Eddie right now is so soft it almost hurts — grip at his chin. He doesn’t force Buck to look at him, but his touch is guiding, encouraging, and Buck finds himself turning to look at his best friend anyway. 

“You know, when I told you I’d always have your back, it extended to this, too,” Eddie tells him, a bit more amusement hanging onto his tone than is necessary, probably. Buck finds it hard to be offended by it, though, since it’s doing such a good job of warming him up from the chill. 

Buck doesn’t know how his body has the energy to flush, but it does, which is great. The  _ last  _ thing he needs to do tonight is out his ridiculous crush on his best friend. ‘Cause that really would be the icing on the cake, wouldn’t it? 

Still, he can’t deny how much the words please him. 

He had been wondering, lately, if things had been broken between them beyond repair. It had taken a long time for them to get back on good terms. Buck had spent his fair amount of time grovelling, and though he would most likely regret the lawsuit for the rest of his life, it did bring out a different layer to their relationship then he had previously thought possible. For one thing, the fact that Eddie or Christopher had cared enough about him to even  _ miss _ him while they couldn’t talk to each other had been a revelation in itself. 

Buck runs his free hand through his hair, and it’s shaking enough that it catches Eddie’s attention, the man’s gaze turning worried once again. 

He’s struck with a thought. “Shit,” he breathes. “I -- you don’t think I woke up Chris, did I?” 

Eddie shakes his head. “No. He’s out like a light still.” 

“That’s good,” Buck says. 

It’s quiet for a long time, long enough that he would have thought Eddie had fallen asleep if it weren’t for the way the man’s grip remains strong and steady over his own. 

“You don’t have to stay out here with me, man,” Buck offers, more as an out for Eddie than anything else. 

Eddie scoffs. “Don’t be an idiot. I’m not going anywhere… unless you want me to. Do you want to be alone?” 

Buck would normally say yes, despite how much the opposite would be true, but there’s something about the way Eddie is looking at him that has him telling the truth. 

“No,” he croaks out. “I don’t think I could take being alone right now.” 

Eddie nods. “Alright. How about I make us some tea, yeah?”

Buck chuckles mirthlessly. “Got anything stronger?”

The other man doesn’t laugh like Buck expects him to, just continues to watch Buck with that look in his eye that hasn’t left since he woke him up. It’s almost as if he thought Buck was a child that needed comforting, or a small animal that would bend or break too much if he spoke too loud. He finds he doesn’t have the energy to take offense; if anything he almost appreciates the kid gloves. He still feels rattled in a way he hasn’t let a dream affect him in a long, long time. 

“How about I make you some famous Diaz hot cocoa instead, hm? It’s Christopher’s favorite, especially after a nightmare.” 

Buck swallows. He knew, from what Eddie has told him, that Christopher struggled a lot with nightmares right after the tsunami. Which only reminds him how little he was there once things with his job started to really deteriorate. Sure, he did plenty of comforting in the beginning, remembers the days when Eddie would drop him off right afterwards, how the little man would fall asleep in Buck’s lap during a cartoon and wake up in a cold sweat only twenty minutes later. 

But, he hadn’t been there for  _ all _ of it. 

Buck nods. “Okay,” he whispers. 

“C’mon, then,” Eddie smiles. “I’ll even let you watch, if you promise you can keep a secret.” 

Buck doesn’t need much convincing, after that. 

  
  
  


\-----

  
  
  
  


Buck isn’t surprised when instead of grabbing mugs, Eddie grabs a pan and puts it on the stovetop. He starts grabbing ingredients right after, so Buck tiredly plops himself at the small breakfast nook so he has full view of Eddie. 

“Hey, uh. Christopher’s nightmares… you said they’re getting better?” Buck asks. 

Eddie looks up from where he's busying himself with dumping all the dry ingredients on the counter. 

"He's doing better," Eddie assures him. 

Buck nods, fiddled with the tablecloth a bit to distract himself from how uneasy he suddenly is. "That's— that's good." 

Eddie grabs some milk from the fridge, taking stock of the hoard of supplies on the counter to make sure he's not forgetting anything. Buck takes a moment to admire the furrow of concentration between his brows, watching the way his tongue creeps between his lips. The man really is unfairly beautiful, and despite this hardly being the first time he's thought this, Buck can't help but feel guilty by the thought. 

This is hardly the time or place for it. He wonders if the rebellion of it all is what encourages it so strongly. 

"Why do you still blame yourself, Buck?" 

Buck would stumble if he were standing, but settles for blankly staring at the side of Eddie's face. 

"What kind of question is that?" 

Eddie doesn't answer right away. Buck keeps his gaze locked on his best friend for the first time since waking up, steady on Eddie's movements. He adds milk, cocoa powder, a bunch of dry spices and extracts into the pan, increasing the heat gradually as he whisks the ingredients together. 

"You don't have to answer, you can listen, instead. I don't think I was clear enough with you, which is my fault. I should have known a single conversation about that day wouldn't be enough to get through your thick skull."

Buck makes an offended noise. " _ Hey _ !" 

Eddie huffs a laugh. "Look, I don't think I can ever put into words how much it meant to me that you did everything you could to keep my son safe. You did  _ nothing  _ wrong. Christopher even told me you went out of your way to save people while you were protecting him."

The anxiety from before starts to suffocate him again. "Oh, uh. H—he did, did he?" Buck asks, trying not to give in to the urge to shrink back. He was dreading this moment, has been dreading this moment since the moment he couldn't stop himself from helping that first girl crying for help. As much as he’s expecting Eddie to start reaming him for being irresponsible enough to leave a small child alone on a firetruck to save others, he doesn't think he'll ever be  _ ready _ for it. 

The harsh words, for whatever reason, never come. 

"Yeah, he did," Eddie starts. "I think it's pretty damn amazing." 

Buck's throat closes up on him again. "Eddie, I--"

Eddie shakes his head, firmly. 

"Don't even start, Evan. I can't even imagine what it was like to be stuck out there like you were. You were scared, in pain, worried about Christopher, and  _ still  _ went out of your way to help other people. How do you not see how amazing that is?"

Buck laughs, but it gets caught in his throat and ends up more of a strangled sob than anything else. "It's nothing, Eddie. This is just who I am," Buck whispers. 

Eddie hums, killing the heat on the stovetop. He reaches into the cabinets overhead for two mugs, and starts to fill them with the steaming liquid. Buck's stomach grumbles from the smell alone, rich chocolate and cinnamon sinking into him. Eddie fills them both up, depositing the pan in the sink to wash later before sprinkling something over the hot chocolates. 

"Alright, Buck," Eddie starts, balancing the two overfilled mugs in his hands as to not spill anything on the kitchen tile. "What do you say we drink these somewhere a little more comfortable?" 

For someone unknown, pathetic reason, just the question alone causes a flush to build up on his cheeks. "Sure." 

Eddie smiles. "Follow me. I think the couch is calling both of us." 

Buck doesn’t need to be told twice. He follows Eddie into the living room, watching as he places the steaming mugs of cocoa on the coffee table before gingerly taking a seat in the middle of the couch. Buck swallows. That’s as clear of an invitation to sit close as he’s ever seen, and he knows he’d be an idiot to pass up a chance to be close to Eddie like this. One he  _ wouldn’t _ feel guilty for taking. 

He sits next to Eddie, albeit less gracefully, and sighs once their thighs press together. 

“Thank you,” Buck says.

Eddie bumps their shoulders together. “It’s nothing, Buck. Now, sit back, relax, and let this hot chocolate work its magic.” 

Buck can’t help but laugh, skin lit up from the points of contact between them, even through the fabric of their clothes. Buck hadn’t planned on sleeping over, so he’s wearing a pair of Eddie’s sweatpants that are almost a little too big around the hips, and the t-shirt he was wearing underneath his hoodie. The fabric is thin, and hides none of the warmth from their skin. 

Eddie presses the mug into Buck’s grip once it has cooled enough with a small smile. “Did you want to talk about it?” 

Buck gratefully takes the mug, sighing. 

Did he want to talk about it? 

That was the question, wasn’t it? Buck had never been good at talking about his feelings, and beyond that, it’s not like he was ever good at properly identifying them either. He’s always been one to experience them in the moment, then analyze them to work through them. Buck doesn’t know if he even wants to begin to examine the mess inside of him that was left over after the waves finally receded. 

“I lost him,” Buck admits, brokenly. He barely notices the crack that cuts through his voice. “I—I lost him before I could even get him. I’m so sorry, Eddie. I tried—I tried so hard.” 

Buck hears more than feels the way Eddie shifts to set his own mug on the coffee table, and then his warm, soft but calloused hands are framing Buck’s face. This time he doesn’t give Buck a choice, guiding their eyes to meet once again. 

“It was a dream,” He reminds him. 

Buck shakes his head. “It’s more than that. I  _ did _ lose him, Eddie. You know that.”

“Buck,” Eddie starts, voice weighted. He sounds serious, as serious as Buck’s ever heard him. His eyes, once Buck manages to raise his gaze from where it’s been locked on the mole beneath Eddie’s eye, are understanding, firm, and have more than a few other emotions swirling around that he can’t identify. “You didn’t lose him. You were separated.” 

Buck sighs. “But—” 

“And you didn’t give up after that, did you? You know, some of the other survivors were worried about you. They saw you wandering the streets covered in blood and asked if we learned what happened to you. Especially the ones you saved.” 

His eyes start to hurt, and as much as he tries to convince himself this  _ so _ not the time to burden Eddie with all of the ugliness inside of him, he can feel it all start to spill over. Buck wants to call him out on lying to him to make him feel better, but he knows as sure as anything else that Eddie would never lie to him. Especially not about this, not when it’s come to light just how much that day has really affected him. 

“They also asked us if you ever found the kid you were looking for,” Eddie says gently, when Buck finds it too difficult to speak. 

The cry that’s wrenched from his throat is loud and oppressive in the stillness of Eddie’s living room, and before he can really do anything else, he’s vaguely aware of Eddie taking the mug from his hands and crushing him against his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers. His hand slides into his hair at the crown of his head, a comforting pressure that makes Buck feel safe enough to  _ finally _ let go. 

Buck’s never been the kind of guy who had a problem with crying. He’s done enough of it in front of his team for that to be obvious, but this is different. He can’t remember the last time he cried this hard. 

Eddie lets him cry it out, and is, in fact, still talking, 

“I shouldn’t have brushed off your feelings like I did. I thought because it worked for me it would work for you, and then -- well, it didn’t really work out for me, did it? You don’t need to brush off what you went through. Chimney was right, you couldn’t control what happened with the ladder truck, just like you couldn’t control the tsunami, either.” 

“I brought him to the pier, Eddie,” Buck finally manages to choke out. 

“Buck,” Eddie says, sounding fondly exasperated. “We can’t predict tsunamis. They just  _ happen _ . If that’s your logic, then you should blame me for suggesting you guys get out of the house in the first place.” 

Buck shakes his head, lifting his head from where he’s buried it in the man’s shoulder. “Man, that’s not even the same thing.” 

Eddie smiles. “It is, though.” 

“I don’t know if I can ever accept that,” Buck admits. “I still feel responsible.” 

“I know you do, and I know you probably always will, but I’m not going to hold you responsible for it. And neither will Christopher.” 

Buck’s eyes sting with unshed tears once again, and he chokes on a watery laugh. 

“I’m a fucking mess, aren’t I?” 

“No,” Eddie whispers, shaking his head. He’s struck frozen a moment later, when the man’s thumb swipes across his cheek. Buck has no idea what is happening, and for once he is far too terrified — _ hopeful _ — to begin to question it. “You’re not a mess, Buck. You’re human, and you’re healing, and that’s  _ okay _ .” 

Buck doesn’t know what to say to that. He almost feels like he’s stuck in a fever dream — as though he was relentlessly pulled into one right after waking up from another. Only this dream is cruel in a different regard; just dangling absolutely everything he could ever want right in front of him. He wouldn’t doubt that his mind could be this cruel to him, not after the last few months. 

Eddie is so  _ real _ and warm against him though, holding his chin, pressing their knees together as the other man angles his body even further into Buck. He wants so desperately to believe this is real- that Eddie is really touching him the way he used to before everything blew up in their faces. 

“You keep being nice to me and I’ll think you’ve forgiven me,” Buck manages to get out, though his voice isn’t nearly as light as he was shooting for. 

Eddie’s eyes flash with hurt, for just a moment, but it’s unmistakable. 

“ _ Buck _ ...” Eddie trails off. 

“It’s cool, though, if you haven’t, you know. I’m just glad we’re talking again,” Buck rushes to amend. 

Between one breath and the next, Eddie’s pulling Buck into his chest again. Buck fumbles, making an aborted noise at the sudden movement, but melts into Eddie’s touch almost instantly. He doesn’t know why Eddie is holding him like this— _ cradling _ him almost— but it feels nice, so he’s reluctant to ask him to stop. 

“I forgave you months ago,” Eddie whispers, and it’s only now that he registers the way Eddie’s hand is running soothing motions up and down the line of his back.. 

Buck snorts. 

_ Yeah, right _ . 

“ _ Evan _ ,” Eddie stresses, hand going still. “I’m serious. You really think I haven’t forgiven you? Why would you come over here then? Why agree to stay the night?”

Buck bites his lip. He already spilled so much, what’s a little more? “I wanted— I just wanted to be close to you, again,” admits Buck. 

Eddie’s expression fractures and Buck hates that he’s the one that put that expression there. Eddie looks, for a moment,  _ devastated _ . His face is so expressive when he wants it to be, emotions easily playing off of his attractive features. Now, though, looking at him almost hurts. Buck has to close his eyes before he does something he regrets, like give himself away just to see that look evaporate. 

“I know I haven’t been the best friend to you,” Eddie says. Buck opens his mouth toprotest, but Eddie’s finger springs up to silence him, skin pressed against skin. “No, let me say this, Buck. I forgave you a long time ago, not long after we ran into each other for the first time.” 

Buck can’t help but laugh, even if it is a touch too watery. 

“Even then? You seemed pretty pissed at me,” Buck says. 

“Oh, I was,” Eddie admits, tone gentle and comforting. “I was mad, yeah, but I also understood. That might have something to do with why I was so angry.” 

“What?” 

Eddie’s hand is still clutching at his chin. He has no idea what it means, doesn’t know if it’s supposed to mean anything, but he hopes it stays there. He’s not about to draw attention to it himself, that’s for damn sure. 

"I was so angry," Eddie repeats. "I choose to hold onto that anger instead of evaluating why it was there in the first place, and along the way I realized I was mad at you for something you couldn't have even known was a problem." 

Buck's eyebrows furrow again. He thinks that maybe if he had his head straight right now he wouldn't be having such trouble following what Eddie's trying to tell him, but, unfortunately, as luck would have it, he’s not really feeling the most competent right now. 

“I don’t think that I follow.”

“What I told you in the market, that was all true. I was upset with you for not spending enough time with us.” 

Buck’s stomach rolls, suddenly extremely nauseous. 

“ _ But _ ,” Eddie continues, and this time, when his hand touches Buck’s face it is only a feather light touch, so light that Buck would be sure he was imagining it if he couldn’t see it for himself. “That’s a two way street. I could have reached out to you, too.” 

“I didn’t think you’d want me around that much,” Buck admits. 

“I always want you around, Buck.” He assures him, and the way he says it makes it obvious that he’s not going to change his mind. 

“That’s still true?” he asks, because he can’t  _ not _ ask. 

“Yeah. It never stopped being true, not once.” Eddie tells him, like it’s as easy as breathing. Buck doesn’t know how this comes so easy for him, when he feels like he’s getting torn open repeatedly, but maybe Eddie’s just better at hiding it. Eddie’s hand drops from his face, and he has to pretend the sudden chill that caresses his skin isn’t as bothersome as it actually is. Eddie gestures towards their now cold hot chocolate on the coffee table with a wry look on his face. “We should probably drink these.” 

Buck had honestly forgotten they were even there, but dutifully leans over to grab the mug. The mug isn’t nearly as hot as it was a few minutes ago, but when he takes a sip of it he finds it not as cold as he was expecting. The richness of the chocolate hits him first. It’s been a long time since Buck last had hot chocolate, and that had always been the packaged stuff. 

This, though, is  _ divine _ . He doesn’t think he’s tasted anything so good in his  _ life _ , and to know that Eddie made it from scratch, for him, is almost too much. 

“Dude, this is amazing,” Buck moans, taking another sip. It’s just as good that time. 

Eddie ducks his head to take a sip from his own drink, but Buck can see the way color gathers on his cheeks. “I’ll be sure to send my family your praise,” Eddie jokes. 

Buck laughs. It isn’t nearly as watery this time. 

“I really am sorry for waking you up, Eddie,” Buck whispers. 

Eddie shakes his head. “I’m glad you did. Buck, have you talked to anyone about this?” 

“Uh,” Buck says, not really sure how to break it to the man that he doesn’t exactly have the best experience with the mental health care system. “I thought it was something I could handle on my own.” 

“ _ Buck _ .” 

“Yeah, uh. Not exactly my shining moment, I guess. But Maddie’s still dealing with the aftermath of Doug, and I didn’t really think you’d appreciate hearing about everything that went down.” 

_ Or how I feel about myself because of it _ , he adds on silently. 

“Why would you think that?” asks Eddie. Buck might be imagining it, but he swears the man almost sounds  _ hurt _ . 

“The tsunami, it wasn’t pretty for anyone. I wasn’t sure if you'd like the reminder of what happened to your son during it.” 

“You’re such a self-sacrificing  _ idiot _ ,” Eddie tells him, matter-of-factly, but Buck doesn’t have time to really be offended by it before Eddie’s freehand is clapping him on the shoulder again. “I wanted to be there for you. Before you saved my son  _ and _ after.” 

Buck blows a breath through his nose. “Wow. So, you’re telling me we could have avoided all that time not talking to each other, if I had just talked to you to begin with, huh?” 

“There might have been some stumbling around to understand each other, but probably.” 

Buck feels the last bit of insecurity and grief leave him. Even after they made up and Eddie forgave him a few weeks ago, there had been doubts he hadn’t been able to shake—that it had been too easy, and for all of his ghosting and anger had evaporated far too quick. He has been waiting, for weeks, for the other shoe to drop. Finding out about Eddie’s extracurricular activities had just been icing on the cake. 

The cake that said ‘I’m-Buck-And-I-Don’t-Think-I-Know-My-Best-Friend-Anymore.’ 

The cake that he had made himself, intentionally or not. If he had even an inkling that the lawsuit would lead to  _ this _ , he never would have considered it in the first place. He didn’t once stop to think that maybe his family would have always been there, job or not, because he had been so convinced that the job was all he had. Buck never thought his family would miss him the way they did. It’s not like anyone outside of his sister ever really missed him before. 

“Hey, Eddie?” Buck whispers. 

Eddie meets his gaze once again. His eyes are tired, disarming, and so very gentle. Buck feels flayed open by the flick of his lashes alone. Everything he was going to say leaves him in a rush, leaving only the distance between them in its wake. 

“Yeah?” 

“I really did miss you.”

Eddie smiles. 

“I missed you too, Buck.”

  
  
  
  


\------

  
  
  
  


They finish their hot chocolate. 

Though he knows that if he manages to fall back asleep it won’t be restful in the least, Buck can feel his eyelids drooping long before they set their finished mugs aside. 

Every so often he can feel the weight of Eddie's gaze on the side of his face. They don't talk much beyond whatever random thought enters their heads at any given time, but it is the most companionable and comforting time Buck's spent with him since the first week after the tsunami. Which is good enough for him. 

Buck's dozed off about five times within as many minutes when a hand lands softly on his shoulder again. He startles, almost jumping off the couch as his eyes fly open. "What?"

Eddie's hand squeezes. "Let's get you to bed, Buck." 

Buck raises an eyebrow at him sleepily. "You only need to move, then," he quips, not nearly as teasingly as he'd like. 

Eddie stares at him again, but instead of moving out of the way like Buck expects him to, he’s gently urging both of them to stand. Buck doesn’t know what this is all about, grumbles in sleepy annoyance at being moved.

“I think we’d both sleep better if you slept with me.” 

It’s like all of the exhaustion and sleepiness is sucked out of him at Eddie’s words, and he finds his eyes tearing open soon after. “ _ What _ ?” 

Eddie looks briefly embarrassed by his choice of words. “To  _ sleep _ , Buck. If you want to sleep here, of course, that's okay, but I… thought I’d offer.” 

Buck wants nothing more than to fall asleep close to Eddie, even better if they’re cuddling a little,or maybe a lot, but that’s not something he ever thought he could ask for before now. 

“I -- you wouldn’t mind?” 

Eddie shakes his head. “Not at all.” 

The next few moments are a blur of gathering their mugs, dropping them in the sink to soak—and Eddie playfully rolling his eyes when Buck offers to wash them up really quick if he wanted to get settled in bed—and finally shuffling into Eddie’s bedroom. This isn’t the first time he’s been in here, but it’s the first time he’s been in here to  _ sleep, _ which already somehow feels different. It’s been a while since Buck has shared a bed with anyone, definitely not since Ally. Not that this is the same, of course. Best friends share beds all the time, right? 

Still, Buck can only hope that he doesn’t wake up wrapped around Eddie, like the bastard with no self-control that he is. The whirlwind that has been tonight hasn’t done anything to dampen his feelings for the dude, and he knows he’s definitely playing with fire right now— and not in the way he usually does. 

“Stop,” Eddie whispers, gesturing to Buck’s shirt with a small smile. “You might wanna lose that. My room gets kind of hot, and I can be a cuddler.” 

Buck swallows.  _ What the hell _ ? Did he slip into the Twilight Zone and not notice? 

He peels off his shirt without thinking about it, setting it on the chair next to Eddie’s dresser. He hears Eddie pad around behind him, before the distinct rustling of fabric as he slides into the bed. Buck doesn’t realize he’s even stalling, until he notices how he’s staring around the room like it’s the first time he’s ever seeing it, which is more than a little embarrassing. If Eddie asks, he can blame the nightmare, at least. 

Instead of dwelling, though, he slides into the opposite side of the bed, breathing a sigh of relief at the instant comfort that Eddie’s -- perfectly lovely, truly -- couch lacked. He resists the urge to spread-eagle, and sighs. 

“Man, your bed is the best,” Buck breathes. “How are your sheets so soft?” 

Eddie chuckles quietly. “Like sleeping on a cloud, right?” 

More than a little, actually. 

Buck hums his acknowledgement, but otherwise stays silent. He can feel them slipping into a slightly awkward silence, buthe can’t think of anything to say, all he can focus on is how deliberate it feels that they’re so far away from each other, and he has absolutely no idea how to bring it up or if it’s even important in the first place. He knows he’s thinking too hard about this again, but he doesn’t think anyone can blame him. While things don’t feel nearly as fragile as they did even a few weeks ago, there’s nothing Buck would do right now that could jeopardize his friendship with Eddie. 

Regardless of how close he wants to be right now. Buck doesn't know why the man’s touch is so comforting, but it is. He knows how to ask for it even less. 

“I can hear you not sleeping, Buck.” 

Buck breathes out an amused breath. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, man,” Eddie assures him. He can literally  _ hear _ the man hesitate. “Is this too weird for you?” 

Buck panics, blindly reaching out to grasp at whatever part of Eddie he can reach in his rush to assure, which happens to be the man’s hip. He fights the blush that wants to embarrass him further, and shakes his head. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, if anything Buck would hazard a guess that he might even welcome the touch. 

Though, that might be wishful thinking. 

“No! Uh, no. This isn’t too weird. We’re just … really far away from each other.” 

“You could always come closer.” 

Buck clears his throat. The suggestion is weighted, though he doesn’t have the first idea with what. He doesn’t want to look into this too much or pressure Eddie, and while they’ve never shied away from tactical touch, implying you want to hold your best friend while you sleep is certainly new territory for them. 

Buck craves it though.

He knows Eddie wouldn’t offer it if it isn’t something he’s okay with, doesn’t want too, so he doesn’t bother confirming whether or not Eddie’s serious about it. Instead, he slowly scoots towards the other man on the bed, and once he’s close enough, turns so his back is pressed against Eddie’s front. 

He breathes a sigh. “Not used to being the little spoon, I’m not going to lie, but this is nice.” 

He feels the breath of laughter Eddie tickle against the tops of his ears. He wonders if this is how everyone he’s held felt like, whenever he bent in close to whisper something to them as they laid in bed together. No wonder they shivered sometimes, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything so intimate. 

“I’m glad to be of service, then.” Eddie tells him. “This doesn’t weird you out, or anything?” 

Buck shakes his head. He can’t exactly say this is what he’s been fantasizing about since not long after they first met each other. He hopes to whoever is listening that his voice remains even. “Nope. Thank you for being here, Eddie. I know I don’t exactly deserve it after—” 

Eddie cuts him off, voice sharp, but not because he’s trying to hurt, “No. Don’t even finish that sentence, Buck. You deserve it. You always deserve help, okay? Everyone does.” 

Buck bites back the less than flattering (to himself, at least) argument to Eddie’s words, and simply lets himself melt back into his grip. “Yeah. Gonna take a while for me to believe that, though.” 

“These things take time, I know,” Eddie assures him, voice but a whisper. He sounds sleepy, like he’s just on the cusp of it. It takes every last bit of strength in him for Buck not to turn around to see the look that must be on his face. Eddie has always been varying shades of soft, especially around his son, but this is intimately real in a way they’ve never been with each other before. This isn’t something he’s used to. It’s painful, in how fast that could change for him though. 

“Yeah,” Buck whispers, eyelids far heavier than they were a moment ago. 

“Sleep,” Eddie mumbles. 

Both of them are asleep before Buck can reply. 

  
  
  
  


\-----

  
  
  
  


Buck wakes up slowly. 

It’s a welcome contrast to how he woke up earlier in the night. His face is nuzzled into something warm, arms wrapped tightly around what could only be another body beneath him. It’s not enough to startle him into wakefulness, like it usually would be, since he could recognize the scent of Eddie anywhere. Eddie is safe, warm— _ home _ . It only occurs to him a few minutes later, once he’s already buried further into Eddie’s arms, that even if he’s familiar, he totally should  _ not _ be cuddling the other man like this. 

He goes to spring away, but the arm thrown around his stomach tightens, Eddie letting out a sleep-soaked chuckle at the sudden rigidity to Buck’s form. 

“Mm, never took you for a nuzzler,” Eddie teases him. “Relax, Buck. I don’t mind.” 

That’s the problem. Not minding is better than the negative alternative, but it certainly isn’t the best either. Buck wants Eddie to want this as much as  _ he _ wants it, which he’s always known would be asking too much. 

“Sorry,” Buck mumbles. “Been a long time since I woke up next to someone.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie’s tone matches his, understated and a touch bittersweet. “Been a while for me, too.” 

Buck knows Eddie’s thinking about Shannon. Regardless of how much of a disaster that relationship was always going to be, he knows Eddie carries around the weight of losing her, more heavily than the he likes. Buck’s face is still somewhat buried in Eddie’s shoulder, and he chances a glance at Eddie’s face. The man looks tired, probably from getting woken up in the middle of the night by Buck’s screaming, but of course, still manages to look devastatingly handsome all the same. 

Buck would be jealous, if he wasn’t so hopelessly attracted to him. 

Their intimacy just got even more pronounced, but he finds it hard to regret it when Eddie meets his gaze again. His entire expression softens into fondness. Buck has never felt so thoroughly seen or cared for just by a look before. It is something, frighteningly enough, he already wants more of. 

It makes something else painful twist in his chest, knowing that this isn’t something he’s normally allowed to have. Quiet mornings with Eddie, any mornings with Eddie, aren’t Buck’s— have never been Buck’s, will never be Buck’s. 

But, damn.  _ Wow.  _

The reverent “ _ wow _ ” slips out of his mouth as soon as he’s finished thinking it. 

Eddie’s mouth quirks upwards. “Wow, huh?” 

Despite the mortification spreading through him, he finds himself unable to look away from Eddie’s eyes. His eyes, more hazel than brown in the morning light of the room, are captivating in a way he’s never let himself sink into before. It’s not like he’s made a habit of it; it’s not something he ever thought he’d be willing to give away. 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Buck says, instead of elaborating further. 

“Feels pretty natural to me,” replies Eddie, pleasantly neutral. It is an olive branch if he’s ever been given one. 

“Yeah,” Buck agrees. “I’ve never been able to sleep like that after one of them before. You must be magic, Eddie.” 

Eddie hums. “Can I tell you something, Buck?” 

The impromptu seuge makes him nervous, but Eddie’s solid, and he’s never trusted anyone more than him.

“Sure.” 

“I don’t know if I can go back to how we used to be after this.” 

Buck’s heart flips upside down. “What are you talking about?” 

Eddie’s other hand, which had previously been wrapped around Buck’s waist, slides up and over into his hair. His fingers are warm and gentle. They don't push or pull like Buck almost expects them to. Eddie's hand is simply another touch between them, a lifeline of connection. 

"I've almost lost you so many times since we met. The truck. The tsunami. The lawsuit. My bull-headed dedication to holding a grudge. I thought I would be okay with not telling you, but I think I've only been kidding myself." 

Buck's heart understands before his brain can catch up, which is pretty much how it's always been for him anyway. He shifts more onto Eddie, so that he's half laying on him. Sometime in the night Eddie ripped off his own t-shirt and for the first time since waking up, Buck notices the goosebumps on Eddie's skin where they rub up against each other. 

"Are you trying to tell me what I think you're trying to tell me?" Asks Buck, voice raw around the edges. 

Eddie doesn't answer him, at least not verbally, though his arms shift their position in order to try to urge Buck to slide up his body, and well, Buck follows, because of course he does. He throws a leg over Eddie's hips, so he's effectively straddling him. It should be weird. It is kind of weird, all things considered, but mostly it's wonderful. 

Their faces are close enough that he has full view of the spill of Eddie's eyelashes on his cheeks, close enough that the urge to kiss the mark underneath Eddie's eyes intensifies beyond his knowledgeable of the English language, close enough that there's no way he misses how Eddie's eyes are giving him the same treatment. 

He has to be dreaming this, right? Maybe his brain is giving him a reprieve from the nightmares for a bit and is instead indulging him a bit. That would be a nice change of pace, though no less painful, if for different reasons. 

“Something tells me you might want me to kiss you.” Buck says, once they’ve both gone a bit without saying something. 

Silences have never been weighted between them, except for maybe after Buck came back to the 118 officially. Still, that had been nothing like this. Eddie is looking at him again, for starters. 

Eddie’s breath leaves him in a rush, and the smile that takes root on his face is enough to knock the wall around his heart loose. 

“That obvious?” Eddie asks. 

Buck hums. He finally closes the distance between them, and the velvet-smoothness of Eddie’s lips meeting his own manages to undo the final screw. He’s surging forward before he can really consider it, sliding fully so he’s straddling his best friend’s hips, as his hands slide upward to tangle in Eddie’s hair—or lack thereof. The way Eddie dissolves back into the sheets tells Buck that he really  _ has _ been waiting for this as long as he has. It nurses the giddiness inside him, dares it to come to the surface. He’s never felt this way while kissing someone—like it’s everything he’s been waiting for and more— even beyond what he realized on his own. 

He makes a noise into Eddie’s mouth, and despite the fact that they both haven’t brushed their teeth yet, is helpless to stop the way his tongue flirts with the seam of Eddie’s lips. He lets out another noise when the man doesn’t even hesitate, and then their tangling together in more ways than one. 

If this were even just a couple years ago, before Abby, before the 118, Buck would be wasting no time letting his hand skate between them to peel Eddie’s sweatpants off, but he hasn’t been that man for long enough that the temptation isn’t even there anymore. He’s much more content to lay here, trading spit and small huffs of laughter with Eddie as the learn the rhythm of each other. 

“Buck,” Eddie says, so close that he pretty much breathes the words into Buck’s mouth, which should be gross—or at least, grosser than it is. “We should stop.” 

Buck pulls away, noses brushing together as they separate. He furrows his eyebrows. “Why?” 

“Because I didn’t lock the door,” Eddie rumbles, voice laced thoroughly with amusement. 

Buck flushes. They’re both decent, of course, but he can feel the way his hardness brushes up against Eddie’s through the material of their pants. Regardless, he’d rather not have Christopher find out about them -- whatever… in whatever way there  _ is _ a them -- like this. He pulls away with a sigh, plopping back down on the mattress on the other side of Eddie. He knows his lips are pulled into a petulant pout, but it’s not like he can help it. 

That was  _ really _ nice. 

He hopes they can do it again. 

“Eddie?” 

“Hm?” 

“That was good for you, too, right?” He asks. 

Eddie’s hand crawls down the length of Buck’s torso to lace with the hand resting on Buck’s stomach. 

“It was more than good,” he promises. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.” 

Buck blows out a laugh. “You and me both, man. The only reason I lasted so long without trying to make a move on you is because I didn’t want to ruin what we had.” 

“You could never ruin anything between us, Buck,” Eddie tells him, and his voice is so earnest he can’t help but automatically believe him. 

“That’s good. ‘Cause I’d really like to kiss you again.” 

Eddie grins. It is as sharp as it is comforting, as new as it is familiar, all the little threads of emotions and layers between them all at once. A  _ promise _ . Buck hardly thinks he deserves it, what Eddie continues to give him. 

“I do see a lot of that in your future,” Eddie tells him, faux-pragmatically. 

Buck laughs, wondering if Eddie can feel the way his pulse jumps at his words. “Really?” 

“Oh, yeah. I don’t know if I can stop, now that I know what it’s like.” 

“Oh, thank  _ god _ ,” Buck intones, pushing forward on his elbows once again to press a kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “I don’t think I can either.” 

Their lips meet again, and this time it is the taste of Eddie’s laughter that welcomes him home. 

**Author's Note:**

> BOY HOWDY!! one day i will learn not to end my fics abruptly, but obviously today is not that day lmao 
> 
> feel free to shout at me about these boys on my tumblr (@buckleyeddie) or prompt me to write another buddie fic (or both!) : D


End file.
